Ah, sigh.

I’ve not really been able to look at this blog, mostly (again) because of the food posted on it, but also because … well … I really haven’t done much. This blog was supposed to be about all the super cool adventures and things I was going to have in Japan, especially while my husband was away so that he could see that I’m not a loser, and so that our families could get a little taste of what Japanese life is like. Funny how pregnancy throws a wrench in those plans. If it wasn’t the 24/7 nausea, it was the ridiculous and absolutely overwhelming heat that made that impossible. The base was constantly warning about strenuous outdoor activities, or on some days, any outdoor activities at all. Not only was it bloody, bloody hot, but the humidity increased the heat index by a significant amount; our 90 degree days (which were constant) felt like 100-110 degree days. It was terrible. And while I was so happy to have the Ensign home and helping me out, my hyper-sensitive nose could sniff his sweaty self the second he walked in the door (no joke).

Fortunately, now, the weather is cooling down. And the humidity doesn’t seem to be as bad. I have even been able to have my windows open for part of the day, which I am hoping will air out the house and help me tackle the mold problem that seems to have sprung up all over the house during the summer (we only got a dehumidifier a few weeks ago). I can’t (always) see the mold, but it can be easily smelled. I have no idea what to do about it. It was definitely not like this when we moved in.

My first trimester nausea is mostly abating, and flare-ups seem to be hunger-related, or specific-food related, or holycow the kitchen sink trap is DISGUSTING-related (I miss garbage disposals!). Unfortunately, what’s killing me these days is my head. I have a few hours in the afternoon to be productive — to clean, to shower, to do the dishes that I didn’t do last night because my head started killing me again — before it sets back in. It’s light-sensitive, and it’s definitely worse when I’m vertical. Fortunately, it seems to be two days on, two days off (or so). In the “two days off” period, I have managed to hang pictures (YAY!!!!!), do laundry (YAY!!!!!), clean out the fridge (holy cow YAY), and cook and clean the kitchen.

But it’s a constant battle. And I’m beginning to drive me nuts. It’s almost like being two people. When I’m feeling down and out, it’s just about make the daggone head stop throbbing please. When I come-to, I wonder who broke into my house and made this mess, because I would definitely never let gross pots and pans sit on the stove overnight (something I used to rail on against my roommates doing), or let a piece of red pepper petrify to the floor (where is Bertie to be my canine vacuum-cleaner?), or leave starburst wrappers all over the coffee table in the living room, or let the dishes pile up until they flow over onto the counter … CERTAINLY NOT ME! (Yes, it’s me). I think part of my problem is that I haven’t had long enough bouts of energy where I can pull myself together enough to tackle the seemingly monumental tasks of organizing this house. I still have yet to put all our clothes back into our dresser (they’re currently divided between a box in the living room and the dryer) and organize our shoes. My fear is that my husband will come home one day, and the house will look exactly the same as it is now. However, in my head, what the Ensign’s next homecoming SHOULD look like goes something like this:

Ensign: My darling wife! I have returned from the wilds of the orient!
Sakura: How wonderful! How many presents did you bring me?
Ensign: Too many to name!
Sakura: Oh how wonderful, my husband! You’re so wonderful. Here, have some apple pie that I made forms scratch myself this morning.
Ensign: It’s delicious! And how nice the house looks.
Sakura: Thank you! I employed advanced feng shuei techniques as I had the furniture arranged just so; also, I consulted with a professional interior decorator who helped me hang the pictures.
Ensign: But where did you find the time or the money to do that?
Sakura: A little thing called the internet — and being a thrifty wife! All the money we saved by shopping exclusively and only at the Commissary saved us *so* *much* *money*.
Ensign: And you say you’re no good at math!
Sakura: Here, please enjoy this Italian three-course dinner that I made. All the food is healthy and organic because I ALSO planted that vegetable garden I had been talking about since the summer!
Ensign: Hooray!

…Aaaaaand what am I doing instead? Intensively analyzing Mad Men episodes.

The good news, though, is … well, thank goodness for the totally obligatory nature of Mass on Sunday. I’ve managed to establish a good relationship with the pastor, who now wants me to help guide/direct/sing in the choir, and also to teach them some simple Latin chant. My goal is to introduce some GOOD hymns (they are working out of a *terrible* book) and help them be more organized (they have some talent, but they have 0 direction; nobody knows when to come in, and sometimes they’re all over the place). This will be fun. Of course, I have delusions of grandeur, here. I cut my teeth on the cathedrals of Europe, lived in Rome for a short while, and when I was in DC I lived in “Little Rome”, the area in the shadow of the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, where I occasionally lectored in the marble-and-mosaiced grand interior of the upper church while the choir sang Byrd, Palestrina, and other classics of Catholic polyphony. I have to stop myself from thinking either that I can teach or that the choir can handle (or that the congregation might be tolerant of hearing) the “Sicut Cervus” (which I love so much and was sung at our wedding). “Oh, it’s okay!” I respond to myself delusionally, “we can learn an Orthodox arrangement of the Our Father! That’s in English! Right guys? … Guys?” I even have to remind myself that even the newly-beloved “My song is love unknown” in SATB harmony is definitely too much to hope for.

Sigh. What I really miss — more than feeling well for the majority of just ONE day, more than someone else doing the cooking, more than anything familiar from home, is a really beautiful and uplifting liturgy. I’ve never been to a place where there was only one Catholic offering, and no Orthodox to speak of. This makes me cringe to think of such beautiful high holy days as Advent, Christmas, Lent, Holy Week and Easter… of what won’t be happening. But I take some comfort in that, while the non-denominational “chapel” (really, a shared auditorium, as the base is not allowed to build an actual chapel) will never be the high-vaulted cathedrals of Europe, we can bring some beauty and reverence to the liturgy bit by bit. I am thinking of asking Father to implement a monthly solemn Benediction (with which I would obviously be more than willing to help to the best of my abilities).

It’s true what Billy Joel says, “there is a time for meditation in cathedrals of our own”. While I am away from the Catholic glories of Western Europe (or its wannabe in the Eastern United States), I’ll do my best to bring it to our humble auditorium, and maybe to our house, because God knows this place needs to be cleaned up.

Very easy — takes three seconds to load everything into a blender. Recipe at La Tartine Gourmande.

Sarah’s words of advice to me were: “don’t skimp on the fish sauce”. It’s true — don’t. Fish sauce looks disgusting to me right now, but is sooo good in this soup. This is also great for pregnancy, as it has plenty of folic acid with all the citrus, omega-3 from the fish sauce (something pregnant women don’t get much of, being scared away from fish via FDA recommendations over questionable levels of mercury in certain kinds), very good monounsaturated fats from the avocado (the good fats!) AND folic acid *again*, and green onions, which I just love.

Morning sickness has reared its ugly head, nearly as soon as I moved into the new place. Tragically, this means that not only will The Ensign come home to an unattractive, breaking-out wife in an oversized “Army” t-shirt lying in bed doing her very best not to yak, but to a house which is also a terrible mess. I feel terrible about this, but there’s not much I can do, because I feel terrible.

Also, I can’t stand to look at this blog much, on account of all the food pictures I have posted. Few things trigger my gag reflex these days as strongly as Asian food.

I’m also totally worn out from yesterday, in which I made a doctor’s appointment, went through the trouble of arranging a ride, only to have the thing for which I was being tested come up negative. Two hours later, I got a “Just kidding” phone call from the health clinic. Evidently the analysis was a two-parter, and the microscopic part came back positive. Additionally, some of the pre-natal blood workups (two weeks ago, or so!) also showed positive. “I can’t believe nobody called you,” they said. Yeah, thanks. :P Fortunately, one of the nurses was kind enough to come out, pick me up and bring me back. But that much time being upright and in the heat (with 100% humidity almost every day, even though the temps are in the low 90s, the heat index is well into the 100s, and CFAS issues “black flag” warnings nearly every day) was taxing. Dizziness and nausea were my constant companions. I wish they’d leave me alone. :P

So I shall be out of commission for a few weeks, possibly, as I rest, force myself to eat food every two hours, take my 7-day antibiotic, and watch Alfred Hitchcock movies (“Marnie” was an excellent movie, and certainly ahead of its time).

Wish me luck!

Ahhh … the crazy gypsy at last has landed.

Although home is none of those places listed in the Billy Joel song, it sure is nice to settle down somewhere and be quiet. Even if the transition isn’t totally done and will stretch out into September when we receive our shipment of household goods (HHG), this sure is nice.

Last night I spent the first night in the new place where the Ensign and I are going to live, where our crazy puppy will eventually join us, where we’ll bring our baby home from the hospital, where he or she will learn to walk, etc. Although the housing process went, I think, unusually quickly, it feels like it has been forever.

As some know, the Ensign and I married quite recently (61 days ago at the time of this writing), which is, of course, a necessary upheaval from me — a packing up of all my earthly belongings, and a throwing-away of the tons and tons of junk that tends to accumulate from a childhood spent too long in once place. This was already after an upheaval (for me) from my DC home after I lost my job last August, and an upheaval for the Ensign from his TX home to attend 12 weeks of Officer Candidate School in Newport, RI. He was able to get more or less settled in VA in a location which also became my home after our marriage. Three weeks later, we had to pack it all away again. Then it became a matter of living out of suitcases for about a month as we traveled to Hawaii on our honeymoon, and then lived out of the Sasebo Navy Lodge until yesterday (well, I lived out of the Navy Lodge … the Ensign departed with his ship three days after we landed here). Even though the wicker furniture is a temporary FFSC loan, it will certainly be nice to put away the suitcases for quite a while, our suitcases which are a bit worse for the wear after two countries, two hemispheres, six hotels, and five flights.

Allow me to explain a bit about the housing process here in Sasebo, Japan … and part of the reason why JapanBases.com is not your best bet for Sasebo housing. With the Ensign gone, it was my responsibility to find housing. Our original plan was to live out in “cho” or “town” in Japanese-style housing with tatami mats and an ofuro and tiny kitchens and the like. However, we are currently living in Main Base housing, which is a rare opportunity, as another housing complex called Hario (about 20 minutes away by car with one free-for-servicemembers MWR bus running business hours M-F) makes up about 80% of Sasebo housing. The reason I think we got Main Base so easily is that one is ranked on the waiting list by the date you detached from the last duty station of record (for the Ensign, VA). Since we took time off for a honeymoon, that date was farther away than people who took little or no time off from their last duty station of record. Therefore, our priority for our expressed preference of Main Base housing was greater.

As soon as you begin looking for housing (i.e. as soon as you register for and take a housing seminar), you will most likely be offered Hario housing, probably in a tower. Hario housing is great for families with children — there are two schools, the larger commissary, a satellite branch of the health clinic (BHC) and dental, a “Family Readiness Center” (a place for kids to play), and a lot of family-oriented activities and support for kids and moms (and a bunco group) etc etc etc. While perfectly fine, Hario is not at all my style … I don’t roll that way. Also, the prevalence of towers looked just like where I used to live in DC. While it was a great place to live at the time, it’s not a place I hope to revisit.

I had imagined the Ensign and I moving to Japan into a typical Japanese house. We would soak in the ofuro every night, I would make a lot of rice, pickles, fish and Japanese-style foods, and I would do my best to learn the language, the geography, and the locals. In other words, to live a Japanese lifestyle while living in Japan. What’s the fun of living one’s own, regular lifestyle if one can do that anywhere and at any time? Where’s the adventure in that?

I had my mind made up when attending the housing seminar. We were definitely going to live in cho. Maybe we’d even sleep in a futon on the floor at night and roll it up and put it away during the day. We’d have a genkan where everybody would take their shoes off before coming in the house, and everything was going to be awesome.

I had this in mind when faced with a wall of cho listings. In the housing office, there is a map on one wall and a few walls with tri-folded listings of all the houses available to rent. If the picture, dimensions, location and price strikes one’s fancy, one picks out the tri-folded paper to note other details: what sort of kitchen, how many parking spaces, whether pets are allowed, any special cho requirements (some neighborhoods require you to participate in clean-up of any shared resources), etc. Picking up to two at a time, you can bring them to the front of the desk and have someone call to schedule an appointment to view the listing. You will then be given a description of a car and a time to meet the realtor, usually out the back gate. The realtor, who usually speaks minimal English, will take you to view the cho. If you like the cho enough, notify housing and arrange a second viewing with a translator to ask any in-depth questions you have.

I did this once and it was awesome. The cho I saw was older (built in the 70s) but it was fantastic. It said it had parking for six cars (!), but I think they meant six abnormally small cars all squooshed together. It had a small and slightly overgrown yard, but the fact that it had a yard at all was a rarity. It was relatively large for a Japanese house, even though there was no storage at all (also not surprising). It had a bedroom downstairs suitable for a queen-sized bed, a hallway/breezeway looking out onto the front yard. It had two rooms with tatami mats, separated by the sliding rice-paper doors. The kitchen was small, but it had a place for an oven. There was an ofuro, a shower (separate, of course, as an ofuro is for soaking and relaxing and the shower is for cleaning oneself) and one tiny dedicated toilet room. The winding stairs could fit one person only at a time, and the rooms upstairs, while hot, were gorgeous, even if they were quite dated-looking with wood-paneled walls. I could forgive the wood-paneling as the upstairs bedroom had a balcony and a lovely view into the valley over which the whole house was perched.

That (aside from lack of heat and a/c, which is typical, and which can be rented from the base) was the main drawback to this cho. Its location, while it was only about 5-10 minute drive from the base, was on the side of the mountain. This translated into several tiny one-car roads which narrow unexpectedly, with many hairpin turns, only navigable thanks to convex mirrors placed at the apex of each turn. I’ve seen these sort of roads on the Amalfi coast in Italy where I was certain the bus that I was riding was going to speeding off one of these cliffs and I would die, or else it would run headlong into approaching traffic, or something. Some of the roads also reminded me (with less dramatic beauty) of the Connor Pass in Dingle where a friend of mine lives. In short, the roads were that tiny. Although the Japanese navigate such roads like It Ain’t No Thang, I myself only very recently received my Japanese driver’s license (the Ensign has not yet got his). Although I’ve done it before, I’m new to driving on the opposite side of the road, and I don’t know what conditions are like on that mountain when it is rainy, snowy or (God forbid) icy. The house itself was perched at the intersection of three such roads. Even though I loved the house, I think that the person who built that house not only did so before there was a road there, but also, possibly, had a deathwish.

Although the cho with all its quirks struck my fancy, the roads did not. Much to my relief, on my return from viewing the cho, I was offered Main Base housing, for the reasons I listed above.

I mentioned earlier that we were able to “express a preference” for Main Base. This can only be done by turning down one’s first offer of housing, which is almost always Hario. We were offered a Hario tower apartment, which I didn’t want because it was Hario, and also because — something the Navy doesn’t really care about — I wanted to bring my puppy Bertie whom I yuuuuuuuuuuvvvv, but who would not be allowed in anything other than the ground floor of a garden-style townhouse. If you turn down your first offer of housing, you technically forfeit your right to a government-funded move (i.e. you have to pay for it), but since none of our stuff has arrived in Japan yet, our stuff would come straight to our house anyway, so it didn’t matter. (NB: If you turn down your first offer of housing because it is inadequate, I do not think that applies; however, this does not take your dog into consideration. Technically for us, Hario was adequate, but we didn’t want it. If you turn down your second offer of government housing, your name gets taken off the waiting list and they stop looking for places for you)

Anyway, after looking at the cho house, I got a call from the housing office which let me know, much to my shock, that there was a ground-floor townhouse available on Main Base — something which never happens. I was a bit caught off-guard. The visions of those beautiful tatami-matted rooms were hard to suppress. Main Base housing would definitely be more Americanized, which had its advantages (washer/dryer, oven, dishwasher, a/c) and disadvantages (upstairs neighbors, American bubble, would I ever leave base?). After talking with my husband — and with his boss adding his $0.02 — it was hard to say “no” to all the advantages living on Main Base had to offer, especially considering the baby in our immediate future (and that the Sasebo hospital is nearly walking distance from housing). So … we took it, sight-unseen, because it wasn’t ready to be seen (due to cleaning) until move-in day. That was a bit nerve-wracking, to be sure. However I was assured the unit was recently renovated and that it was very nice, despite being about 200sqft smaller than the cho house I had viewed.

Moving day was yesterday, a feat made much easier thanks to the Family Member Assistance Team (FMAT), which for me was one dude and a van, but it was all I needed for the six huge suitcases and several small bags from the Navy Exchange (NEX) with things like sheets, towels, soap and toilet paper to make the space livable.

I didn’t have a vision of what I thought our unit was going to look like, but what I got was certainly not what I expected. Everything was new and beautiful. There’s not a single scratch on the hardwood floors (necessary, due to all the humidity). The closets which appear to be a bit narrow are very deep, and have one layer of storage immediately accessible above clothing racks, and another layer with separate doors above the main closet (I would need a step-stool to reach them). There are separate a/c units in both bedrooms and in the living room, the washer/dryer are full-sized and American and do a fantastic job, the bath is ofuro-sized, and it has the Japanese “dedicated toilet” room as I call it with an American-friendly toilet (as opposed to the hole in the ground typical to most Japanese toilets), whose handle has, it appears, two flush settings — one for normal, and one for, uh, “big”!

And also, the kitchen is huge, and has LOTS of cabinet space — possibly more than at our previous townhouse in VA.

And possibly best of all, I can have a DSN phone line on base housing — free calls to and from my husband when he’s on a ship! — AND the location is a much easier walking distance to Sasebo’s downtown. Last night I walked to a ramen shop for dinner (so! tasty!) and watched Japanese baseball (no commericals!).

More good news — again, I assume since we whiled away our time between duty stations, our first shipment called Unaccompanied Baggage (UB) — things like our dishes, silverware, pots and pans, clothes, vacuum cleaner, and a few other things — will arrive tomorrow!

WOOT! I JUST LOOKED AT THE LIST I MADE AND OUR WII IS IN THAT SHIPMENT!

At last! A time and a place to settle down!

If I travel all my life and I never get to stop and settle down
Long as I have you by my side, there’s a roof above and good walls all around…
I need you in my house, ‘cause you’re my home

Just a little over a week ago, I went to Base Health Clinic (BHC) to confirm something I already suspected — I am pregnant!!

Sadly, I got this news after the Ensign left, so I knew I had to come up with a clever way to tell him.

This is what I came up with:

He was ecstatic! We can hardly believe it, especially since we JUST got married, and I am not feeling poorly nor showing, of course. I half expect to show up for my next appointment and have them tell me there has been some mistake. (But they won’t!)

I was also fortunate enough to get a guesstimate of when his ship returns, so I re-scheduled my appointment for well enough after that time so that he can be present for the first ultrasound, and to hear our baby’s heart beat.

There is a LOT of life happening right now! Between getting married, moving to Japan, finding housing, finding out we’re pregnant … whew! I’m currently working on finding some kind of “support group” for pregnant mamas. There is a “New Parent Support Group” through Fleet and Family Services (FFSC), but that tends to focus mostly on the third trimester and after the baby is born (birth classes, nursing information, baby basics). I was given the book What to Expect When You’re Expecting, but I can tell you unconditionally and unrestrainedly that I HATE it. There are few things I hate more than populist literature, especially by people who don’t know what they’re talking about. This book is one such example. Although the author has a forward by the doctor, she herself is not medically trained. And it shows. It’s alarmist, it’s simplistic, and it talks down to the reader. I’d rather accept the fact that, right now, my baby looks like an alien (6 weeks) than pretend that (s)he is the cutest thing ever. The baby currently looks like this:

…and I feel like I should be wearing this shirt:

…and that is okay. My baby is going to be super-freaking-adorable when the due date comes around when the baby gains a little weight after coming home from the hospital (newborns also look like aliens). But right now, baby just looks kind of gross.

Yes, there are super moms out there. I am not one of them. I don’t want people to touch my belly when I get bigger. I am pregnancy craving scotch and cigars (actually, cigars dipped IN scotch … a Hemingway Short Story and Johnny Walker Blue sounds so good right now…). While I intend to keep in good shape (ha! I am so tired these days) and eat well (not a problem for me, especially in Japan) and be the best mom I can be, I won’t be updating my facebook statuses with pregnancy milestones (unless they are strange or funny), and I don’t really like the idea of a belly album. I’m not afraid to be a little unconventional, and to protect my (and my family’s) privacy.

Anyway, speaking of this new family of ours, I have, on my husband’s suggestion, added a PayPal donate button and a link to our Amazon.com baby registry wishlist. Seeing as we’re on the other side of the world and I haven’t made a ton of friends yet, I probably will not have a baby shower, which means we will have more financial burden to bear than those who are lucky enough to be thrown showers. Any contribution of any kind is always appreciated, most especially your prayers.

That concludes this Big News post; I hope to catch up with my other posts today as well. Tomorrow I will be running around base a lot, Wednesday is move-in day, and I will not have internet till Friday, though more likely Monday (aaarrrggghhh *shrivels up and dies*).

Sayounara!

Update: By the way, in addition to feeling like “aaaaarrrrrggghhhh there’s a alien inside me!”, I also feel like this:

This first onigiri, or Japanese rice bowl, had a pork-flavored ramen. It was a tiny bit crunchy, the slightest bit spicy, but also savory and salty. The nori was an extra piece.

This onigiri was a smoked salmon with seaweed onigiri. It was very light and refreshing and delicious.

This one was especially tasty — a tuna onigiri with mayonnaise and a small bit of soy sauce.

I very much want one of these, but I believe I missed my opportunity for this price.

-A visit to Hachiman shrine: some pictures and anecdotes about my first impressions of Sasebo City
-A really big random news item that, if you’re reading this around the time of its actual publishing, you probably already know (so don’t freak out)
-Stuff I probably this this past weekend
-Military Housing 101: death by PowerPoint a visit to cho
-We Have Housing(!!!)
-MORE Visiting Sasebo: a view of the 99 Islands
-Nagasaki (tomorrow’s day-trip!)
-This is the most ridiculously hilarious video that recently went viral:

…that last one was NOT influenced by any Non-Rainbow Substances ™.

Enjoy!

I apologize for not having written in this blog sooner. Life has been happening at rapid-fire pace, about which I will write much later as I have much news, but first, I have this Important Public Service Announcement.

Everybody has to go see Inception right now. Possible spoilers ensue.

This was one of the most effective movies I have ever seen, possibly through a weird series of coincidences, but even without the particular-to-me circumstances, simply mind-blowing.

Putting aside acting, directing, producing, filming, basically everything that goes into making a movie a movie, this film has captured and conveyed a universal *idea* in a most Platonic and identifiable (and kind of creepy) way which makes the Matrix, when it was new and fresh and cool, seem like Richard Scarry. There’s no childish wielding of Ideas. The brush used to paint is both very specific and general enough to be a common experience.

The film deals with dreams … layers of dreams, in fact, and the subconscious mind encountered there in, and one’s ties back to reality. And love. And death. And eternity. And that weird falling sensation right before you wake up.

Although I keep stopping and starting my prose, allow me to do it again. Have you ever had that dream? That one dream that you wish you could have gone back to? You wish you could re-create it (having created it once), you wish you could share it. This is what most people picture when the word “dream” is said — something hazy and surreal in its Elysian qualities. Instead, I am reminded of a quote from C.S. Lewis’ The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The ship The Dawn Treader has sailed for twelve days, have reached a flat calm in the sea, and begin to row for land. As they draw closer, they discover it’s not land at all, but a very dark mist … in fact, an utter blackness. All hesitate upon the brink, but it is decided to go forth:

With a creak and a groan the Dawn Treader started to creep forward as the men began to row. Lucy, up in the fighting top, had a wonderful view of the exact moment at which they entered the darkness. The bows had already disappeared before the sunlight had left the stern. She saw it go. At one minute the gilded stern, the blue sea, and the sky, were all in broad daylight: next minute the sea and sky had vanished, the stern lantern – which had been hardly noticeable before – was the only thing to show where the ship ended. [...]

How long this voyage into the darkness lasted, nobody knew. Except for the creak of the rowlocks and the splash of the oars there was nothing to show that they were moving at all. [...]
Suddenly, from somewhere – no one’s sense of direction was very clear by now – there came a cry, either of some inhuman voice or else a voice of one in such extremity of terror that he had almost lost his humanity.
Caspian was still trying to speak – his mouth was too dry – when the shrill voice of Reepicheep, which sounded louder than usual in that silence, was heard.
“Who calls?” it piped. “If you are a foe we do not fear you, and if you are a friend your enemies shall be taught the fear of us.”
“Mercy!” cried the voice. “Mercy! Even if you are only one more dream, have mercy. Take me on board. Take me, even if you strike me dead. But in the name of all mercies do not fade away and leave me in this horrible land.”
“Where are you?” shouted Caspian. “Come aboard and welcome.”
There came another cry, whether of joy or terror, and then they knew that someone was swimming towards them.
“Stand by to heave him up, men,” said Caspian.
“Aye, aye, your Majesty,” said the sailors. Several crowded to the port bulwark with ropes and one, leaning far out over the side, held the torch. A wild, white face appeared in the blackness of the water, and then, after some scrambling and pulling, a dozen friendly hands had heaved the stranger on board.
Edmund thought he had never seen a wilder-looking man. Though he did not otherwise look very old, his hair was an untidy mop of white, his face was thin and drawn, and, for clothing, only a few wet rags hung about him. But what one mainly noticed were his eyes, which were so widely opened that he seemed to have no eyelids at all, and stared as if in an agony of pure fear. The moment his feet reached the deck he said:
“Fly! Fly! About with your ship and fly! Row, row, row for your lives away from this accursed shore.”
“Compose yourself,” said Reepicheep, “and tell us what the danger is. We are not used to flying.”
The stranger started horribly at the voice of the Mouse, which he had not noticed before.
“Nevertheless you will fly from here,” he gasped. “This is the Island where Dreams come true.”
“That’s the island I’ve been looking for this long time,” said one of the sailors. “I reckoned I’d find I was married to Nancy if we landed here.”
“And I’d find Tom alive again,” said another.
“Fools!” said the man, stamping his foot with rage. “That is the sort of talk that brought me here, and I’d better have been drowned or never born. Do you hear what I say? This is where dreams -dreams, do you understand, come to life, come real. Not daydreams: dreams.”
There was about half a minute’s silence and then, with a great clatter of armour, the whole crew were tumbling down the main hatch as quick as they could and flinging themselves on the oars to row as they had never rowed before; and Drinian was swinging round the tiller, and the boatswain was giving out the quickest stroke that had ever been heard at sea. For it had taken everyone just that halfminute to remember certain dreams they had had – dreams that make you afraid of going to sleep again – and to realize what it would mean to land on a country where dreams come true.

To my mind, this is one of the most chilling passages in literature. Without outlining the specifics, we know exactly why this is terrifying, and due to personal experience.

This is what the protagonist of Inception cannot avoid, in the deep recesses of his subconscious .

The idea behind the movie is simple: because our minds are weakest in sleep, dreams can be “shared”, even infiltrated by people who have the right talent. In a process known as “extraction”, these people suggest to the subject the existence of something locked away, whatever it may be. The subject’s mind interprets this, in his dream, as a stronghold of some sort (a vault, a safe, etc), which the Extractor can then … extract, basically robbing the mind of the subject of its secrets. The opposite of this is Inception — a process by which an idea is suggested to the subject. This is near impossible to do, because if not handled correctly the subject realizes the idea is not his own and reject it. An idea successfully implanted, however, almost works too well. It can grow and work on a person to a point where it changes who they are. (And you’ve had similar dreams — that’s that one really awesome dream you sometimes think about, or that thing you dreamt about that one time with that feeling in it that you can’t quite shake.) The most effective Inception grows into a major decision that crosses from the subconscious *into* the conscious world and results in a decision that one would not otherwise make.

Sometimes we’ve even had those dream where we wonder where we got that idea; something that you swear your mind was otherwise incapable of. Where do those come from?

This movie takes those ideas about dreams that you just KNOW, combines them with the dream-within-a-dream phenomenon that happens rarely but is the stuff of some of the best Star Trek episodes, that falling sensation that you swear has some significance (“If I don’t wake up before I hit the ground, do I die?”), the role of memory and subconscious in dreams, and the Cartesian “How do I know that this is not reality and not just another dream?” that the Matrix handled so clumsily. In fact the latter is handled so well, it’s hardly mentioned, but it’s at the forefront of the viewer’s mind.

There are unanswered questions, there are odd perceptions, but mostly the movie is a maze for the mind. Ariadne, the so-called “architect” of the dream world (named after the daughter of King Minos in Greek mythology who helped Theseus escape the labyrinth and defeat the minotaur), opens up world after world, each more fascinating than the last for the sheer fact of its reality within its godlike creation. I read a review or two that has complained that the director, with the infinite backdrop of the subconscious mind, didn’t do more with it. It’s true that the settings are sort of mundane. But those are the most real dreams. When you have surreal dreams, it’s so much easier to recognize the random elements that put it together. For instance, here (from gchat archives) is a dream I had about a month before my wedding:

First of all, [this dream] was taking place in this church that was also a courtroom. Next door there was a small, old, country church that was being used for a storehouse. While we were gathering people together, there was a big fight going on. The Ensign (my husband) was fighting someone and I went to help him but the dude started running away and the Ensign went after someone else to fight. So I corner the guy and I start to choke him, when I suddenly realize he’s John McCain. I ask him, “Wait, why are we fighting?” He says, “I don’t know”, so I run to the narthex of the church and yell, “Hey! Stop fighting. Everyone on my side of the family sit on the right, and everyone on the Ensign’s side of the family sit on the left.” So they did and everyone stopped fighting. Then, we went into the church/courtroom, and for some reason I also had to marry my friend Monica K (who, in reality and in my dream, is already married). This was for some nominal, civil reason — like extending my citizenship to her, or something. The original idea was that that would occur after the *real* marriage to the Ensign, but she shows up in a wedding dress, and I was all like shoot shoot shoot, what do I do, we’re not having two processions and I’m not doing this twice; despite the fact that I’m wearing the groomsmen’s attire, which makes me upset because I’m supposed to be putting on MY dress. The musicians started to play the entrance hymn, but instead of a choir it’s just an organ and a soloist, which was all wrong. In fact, there was a LOT wrong since we hadn’t had a rehearsal, and I wound up directing everybody (during which time I was somehow wearing my dress). And then I woke up.

That one is easy — a lot of wedding stress, a lot of stress about both families coming together, about the unknowns of the rehearsal, of getting everything to go right, of all the things that COULD go wrong, and the fact that I was taking advice from Monica at the time, yet thinking to myself, “But I don’t want to have her wedding, I want my wedding to be mine.” And the fact that the Ensign and I, for the purposes of the Navy, had contemplated civil marriage prior to the real wedding. (Oh, and that the Ensign, since he was far away from me at the time, could only help me with some things, but I had to do a lot without him.) AND the fact that I am mad at John McCain STILL for losing the election. However, all that doesn’t even come close to convincing me that I was REALLY THERE. It’s all too easy to write off.

BUT those dreams where I dream about waking up and going to work (or school), or conversations with people, or reliving memories … or those nightmares about spiritual realities that actually could happen … there is a reason why one feels like pinching oneself upon waking.

Another review writes:

Not only do Cobb [the protagonist] and company need to be well versed in weaponry, combat and driving, but they also have to know their target’s psychological profile inside and out. The team needs to gather intelligence about Fischer [their target]’s relationship with his father and godfather, his fears and his anxieties, in order to use these against him in his dreams. Fischer’s biggest issue is that he believes his father is disappointed with him; Cobb and company use this to their advantage and, in order to get his guard down, literally ask Fischer to tell them about his father.

(source)

Cobb etc accomplish this (as implied earlier) by deliberately creating dreams within dreams, in a rather complex (sometimes head-scratching) manner: since there are a few “layers” of dreams, the dreams are being shared by a few different people. Ultimately they are all in the target’s dream, but within that dream they are in another guy’s dream, etc. At the heart of the operation is Cobb, and the farther into the maze they go, the farther into Cobb’s subconscious, until a moment when they are face-to-face with one of the most mysterious and therefore terrifying elements of the film (undisclosed — although for those who are familiar with the Silent Hill videogame franchise, it’s not unlike the feeling one gets towards the end of Silent Hill 2). THIS is where we see Cobb’s own “Island where Dreams come true”.

But what blows my mind is that, at the end of the movie, Inception has done exactly that. To. Its. Audience. Inception is itself the inception the director works to create. When the movie is over, you feel as if it has been a dream, and you wonder if you’re back to reality. Inception is very nearly exactly what it does.

When was a last time a film could boast that?

This review has been a bit subjective and mushy, as I’m less out to praise the film’s artistic qualities (which are certainly present), but mostly to communicate why it Blew My Freaking Mind.

The next part of this is … a series of stupid coincidences:

- Dreams crossing into reality: Not two days ago, I had an absolutely terrifying nightmare. (Not surprising: I have nightmares when the seasons change). I could not shake the feeling of fear for hours after I woke in the middle of the night. I even woke myself by calling out something. Although it’s possible to mumble oneself awake, I spoke something very clearly, comprehensibly, and something which made sense both in the dream at the time and upon waking. Basically, one element of this nightmare became totally real in the waking world, even though it was just something as harmless as a word. Even then, a word is more real than, say, an act (when you lash out in a dream and wake yourself up, it’s very rarely the same action with the same effect in real life that it is and has in your dream).
- The Island of your Dreams/The Island where Dreams come true: the fear of the unknown tied up with the benevolent wishing for the good is the heart of what Lewis is getting at in the earlier passage. If only we could always have those hazy, lovely dreams; if only we could share them forever with someone. This thinking features prominently in the Heart of the movie’s Problem, underneath many layers. The idea is sweet (I think most of us have seen this Calvin and Hobbes comic), but crossing the line between dreams and reality is profoundly Dangerous.
- Most of these actors had recently been at the forefront of my mind…like within the past week: one character was the Chairman in Memoirs of a Geisha, a movie I’ve been thinking a lot about since moving to Japan; the movie Juno made a very low impact on me, and I thought of it for like the second time ever just earlier today, for a completely unrelated reason. I was just watching Joseph Gordon-Levitt in 10 Things I Hate About You which was on TV. I recently spilled a lot of brain energy on Love Me if You Dare (aka Jeux d’enfants), a weird French film I watched about two months ago, starring Marion Cotillard. And any time Michael Caine shows up, there’s some connection with my father (who loves Michael Caine).

This collection of persons and coincidences is the sort of thing that one usually pieces together … in a dream.

I was unsettled by the end of the movie. I was looking for my “totem”, or what the movie defines as an item known exclusively to me, that no one else would know about, and that I could handle in order to convince me that I was not lost in someone else’s dream. I thought long and hard about what this could be as I walked home. Fortunately I made something recently. Even my husband hasn’t handled it (if someone else handles it, it defeats the purpose). I haven’t checked to see if it’s still there.

I should do that now.

Update

After waking up from a dream (yes, it’s unsettling to have a vivid dream after a movie about vivid dreams), I have come up with a list of More Things That Make This Movie Effective:

-The sense of dread: Whenever Dom sees a certain image from his memory, there is an incredible sense of dread, like something is about to happen, or that you are frightened to see their faces. Why should this be? You KNOW they’re children. But still, as in dreams, sometimes you have to, in a dream, Open That One Door or something, but you have a tremendous sense of dread about it without knowing exactly why. This is built very well into the movie.
-The last scene affects your view of the entire movie.
-Time: Ever had that weird sensation that you’ve lived a lifetime in a dream? Or that time is everything and nothing? I once had a dream that I lived an entire lifetime in one dream, and I still woke up and felt that way. In it, some kid who was my friend died. I remember what shirt he was wearing and I STILL look around for him. This is similar to the “flute” episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation (one of the best episodes made). This is also used in the movie. This is not to say that the movie plods along and seems to take forever (indeed, I questioned the beginning of the movie’s pacing — which starts in media res — but in the end I find it is excellent).
-The names are all significant: for example: Dom Cobb, a man caught in a *web* of dreams, who claims to be the master of them. Dom, from the Latin dominus, meaning lord or master, also a title given to Benedictines, now meaning nothing but once also signifying great learning. Ariadne, as mentioned above. Mal, meaning “bad” or “evil”, is the subconscious in Dom’s mind against whom he struggles. Fischer — I suspect this is a reference to the Medieval “Fisher king”, or the wounded king who holds The Key in Arthurian legend. Arthur is a clear connection, but Yusuf, Saito, Browning, Eames, and Dom’s children Philippa (the name which tipped me off that Something Is Going On Here … strangely enough. It should have been Ariadne.) and James I still have to think about, but it’s undoubtedly there.
-The quality of the movie, being so dreamlike, makes you question your own reality: Everything in the movie can be questioned. See #2. This affects everything… is Dom dreaming? You know that sense that only YOU have all the answers, but they come slowly, in bits and pieces? Or in a dream where everything depends on you, as the protagonist? You do a lot of things that are highly unlikely but seem to work, so you go with it. Things are slightly off. The characters’ names. The ages of his children at the end. Who is awake? Who is asleep?

This review might be alternately titled “Lauren has weird dreams and so does Chris Nolan”, but if he has somehow tapped into my subconscious, I suspect I am not alone. Perhaps we are all sharing someone’s dream. AND THAT’S THE INCEPTION.